


we always think when we have love (it will take care of us)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Queen Prompts [75]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Motion Sickness, Sickfic, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Brian gets sick on the bus, Roger takes care of him.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor
Series: Queen Prompts [75]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1265597
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	we always think when we have love (it will take care of us)

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt fill.

Roger will be the first to say that the part of the tours that they must use the bus for are some of his least favorite moments. It wouldn’t be so bad if the studio didn’t have ridiculous ranges of what was considered a close city in America. Six hours wasn’t close no matter how their tour manager spun it.

The tour manager also American, which means that this _is_ short for him, who also promises that this is the fastest way. Roger thinks it might almost be worth it to have another hour added on to stop the jarring from the potholes. Seriously, how does a road have so many?

He glances towards the back of the bus where Brian took up residence almost ten minutes ago. Freddie is scream-singing to try and wake John up, and it appears that John is winning that battle. Roger raises an eyebrow and wanders to the back of the bus. Mostly to get away from whatever terror John will bring once Freddie succeeds in his task.

Brian’s face is screwed tight and goes tighter when they hit another pothole that sends Roger stumbling onto the back bench. He notes that Brian is holding his stomach and looks paler than normal. Roger raises his eyes in thought, Brian _hadn’t_ been sick when they left the hotel. Superstitiously he checks Brian’s fingers and is happy to see that they’re free from yellow staining.

“Bri, are you getting sick?”

_What if it’s something to do with his appendix? Maybe it is the hepatitis?_

Brian shakes his head. Then seems to regret that action. Roger is about to argue when they go over another bump and Brian swallows thickly.

“Are you getting motion sick?”

“Yes.”

Brian barely moved his lips, as though he is afraid of opening his mouth. Roger stands up and tries to keep his balance as he moves towards the seat next to Brian’s head. He places a hand on Brian’s head. After a few moments, Brian cracks a hazel eye open.

“Fred and John are busy. Well, Fred’s busy, John is asleep,” Roger explains.

There’s a beat of hesitation and then Brian’s head is in his lap. The motion causes him to pinch his lips together. Roger waits until Brian is more comfortable and then starts stroking through his hair.

“Don’t.”

Roger tangles his hand in the curls and then keeps it still. Brian lets out a sigh of relief. He hums one of their songs. The bus starts to take an exit and the long curve sends Brian upright and into the bathroom stall. Roger follows him and isn’t surprised to hear soft retching noises. He kneels and puts his hand against Brian’s back.

When the retching noises finally calm down, Roger pats Brian’s back. Brian leans back against the wall of the stall, which is too small to comfortably fit his long legs. Roger steps out to give him more room.

“You’ve never been motion sick before?”

Brian shrugs, “must be the road.”

“We switched highways, so maybe it’ll get better.”

He bights back a laugh at Brian’s grimace, “think you can get back on the couch?”

Brian shakes his head.

“We’re still four hours away from the city,” Roger frowns, “you’re going to feel awful if you stay here.”

“Not possible to feel worse.”

Roger rolls his eyes, Brian was naturally only dramatic when it came to him being sick.

“C’mon cuddle will make you feel better.”

Brian keeps his lips pressed together and his eyes closed. Roger frowns and tilts his head out of the stall.

“Does anyone have any water or medication for motion sickness?”

“Here’s a water bottle.”

Crystal tosses the bottle down the length of the bus. Roger lets it roll to him and grabs it. He opens it and the presses the mouth of it to Brian’s lips. The guitarist shakes his head minutely. There’s another bump and the water goes over Brian’s front, who groans.

“Sorry.”

Roger reaches up for one of the paper towels and dabs them on Brian’s front. Once the paper towels are soaked through, he tosses them into the bin.

“You have to drink,” Roger says.

Brian reluctantly takes a sip and Roger preens. It’s going to be a miserable trip, but hopefully, once they stop moving for a few hours Brian will perk up.

* * *

Brian does not perk up. Roger is pretty sure that it’s not motion sickness either, considering Brian’s complaints of a headache and slowly rising temperature. They’re alone in the hotel room, John and Freddie have taken Ratty to go buy medication. He’s glad that the concert is tomorrow so that Brian can rest some.

At the very least, Brian’s stomach is better. Compared to the bus when he wouldn’t open his mouth for anything, now he won’t close it.

“I’m going to die here,” Brian groans, “in this shitty hotel in Boston.”

Roger rolls his eyes, “don’t say that.”

Brian’s nearly died once, and Roger does not need to repeat that time again. Besides, it’s not serious if Brian is being a baby about it. That’s what experience has taught him at least since Brian didn’t say a word the entire time his arm was rotting, or his liver was swelling. Roger rests his wrist against Brian’s head again, it’s not dangerously warm. Then again, if this something worse it could hit at any moment. He wants the medicine so that he can mitigate the symptoms if that’s the case.

“My head feels like an egg boiled in a pressure cooker.”

“Can you cook eggs in pressure cookers?”

Brian cracks an eye open and then immediately shuts it with a whine.

“Sorry, love,” Roger kisses his cheek.

He settles back against the headboard, ready to pull the bin up to their bed if it is needed again. Brian rolls over and latches on to one of his legs. Roger playfully attempts to tug it free, but Brian’s grip isn’t strong enough to hold onto it. Ratty should have enough common sense to buy a sports drink, or John should because he is a dad and they seem to know those things.

“This is hell,” Brian grumbles.

Roger hums. He is not having the time of his life babysitting a whiney Brian, but there’s nowhere else he would be.

“You’re going to be okay.”

“Says you.”

“Who’s the biologist here?”

Brian snorts and digs his nose into Roger’s hip. There’s a knock on their door.

“Come in, I’m trapped by a big baby.”

He feels the warning squeeze on his thigh.

John enters holding bags up like they’re the Olympic torch, “Freddie doesn’t want to come in, in case it’s contagious.”

“Won’t really matter if both your drummer and guitarist are out with the same thing,” Ratty chirps.

Roger tilts his head, “point.”

“Yes, but this way we don’t have to deal will an ill Freddie.”

“Also, a fair point.”

John sets the bag on the nightstand and looks down worriedly at Brian. Then to Roger.

“Just residual motion sickness, I think, and the rest is caused by dry heaving bile for three and half hours.”

Brian getting sick is a sore point for everyone in the band.

“Well, we got something to stop nausea and some painkillers. There are water bottles and crackers in there as well. Also two of those sports drinks you like and fizzy soda.”

Roger nods, “thanks, I’ll make sure he takes the meds and drinks.”

“Ring if you need help.”

_Or he gets worse._ Went unsaid.

Once Ratty and John have left them alone Roger tries to coax Brian into sipping the sports drink and taking the pills.

“It’ll make you feel better.”

Brian shakes his head and nearly turns green with regret.

“Do it for me, please?”

“Playin’ dirty,” Brian mumbles.

“We’re not playing at all,” Roger waggles his eyebrows when Brian looks at him.

“I look gross right now.”

“You look absolutely stunning, but I don’t feel like kissing your sick breath.”

Five minutes later Roger is happy to see a quarter of the sports drink gone and both pills taken. Brian is resting on his own pillow, still too uncomfortable to sleep. Roger wiggles down from where he was propped against the headboard and over to Brian. He takes one of the guitarist’s hands.

“Sleep some more, and then we’ll try the crackers, okay?”

Brian wrinkles his nose.

“You’ve kept everything down so far; we can at least try.”

“Remind me never to ride on American roads again,” Brian grumbles.

Roger nods, “I’m with you there.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Roger smiles, “now sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on Tumblr.


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